


I'm just wishing on the dying star; hoping it burns back

by lavender_violets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Academia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hate to Love, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Remus Lupin is So Done, Sirius Black is a Little Shit, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavender_violets/pseuds/lavender_violets
Summary: Only the ones with money were destined to survive the war.In which the marauders are from families rich enough to send their children to a school away from the cruelty and cowardice that whispered inside Royalty and Military during WWII. A whirlwind of glittering betrayals, evenings smudged across empty wooden hallways, secrets spilling amongst wine glasses, a hollow star and a faded Moony in love.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 5





	1. BEGINNINGS ARE BAD

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue, the chapters are better than whatever this is. I'm sleep deprived sorry.

PROLOGUE

_**"** _ _I want to make love, but my hair smells of war and running and running. **"**_  
_― **Warsan Shire**_

The rain had reduced down to a whisper by the time the car rolled to a stop in front of the building, the engine humming and settling satisfyingly in the hushed atmosphere.

Remus eyes roamed over the old building in front of him, hand pushing the door open. He hefted his suitcase out and dipped his chin in a silent message to the driver. The engine whiffed deeper and Remus watched the car smooth down the road, edges blurred by the heavy mist.

He turned towards the old grey building with vines curling and licking its walls, history sleeping in the cracks of the bricks and the rust of the grand iron gate fencing the grounds it stood upon. In the devilish calm of the morning, it looked content.

Remus knew better.

Only those of the well on families were allowed to flee from their places to this place. Those who could pass notes or guns through hands. Even in war, blood was what human valued, if it was rich then it was coin, if it was cheap it flooded the streets as payment.

He tipped his head back and squinted at the sky, then sighed and begun walking towards the gate.

He pushed at the heavy iron chain and it jingled clear in the moist air, signaling at the guard sleeping in his shed about an onlooker. Remus shifted his suitcase and waited for someone to show up, lip caught between teeth.

A dark figure jogged towards the gate and Remus shivered, holy mother, there would be no going back now, he was finally here for who knows how long. The guard stopped and stuck his hand through the gate, a silent question between furrowed eyebrows.

“Lupin,” with that Remus passed him the pass that had been sitting in his trouser pocket.

The guard shifted his wad of tobacco to his other cheek and ducked his head, a silent greeting. Remus gave a sound smile in return.

Then the gate was creaking and sputtering like an old man after his alcohol jammed night at a bar and Remus was stepping inside the school grounds, officially out of the matters of war and conflict.

-

The chatter of the dorms floated into the hallway and Remus’ suspicion that this was indeed a haunting house was blown away. He had been foolish anyways, what savage would wake up at seven in this damned cold? Himself didn’t count.

The hallways were dim, lit by whatever light could whisper through the heavy clouds and the oil lamps that hung against the parchment coloured walls.

He shivered despite the large sweater that was wrapped like a warm embrace around his body and shuffled his way up the wooden stairs. The number on his card said 21, meaning his room was the one he was staring at currently. The oak door was weary but polished, the number 21 etched into it with golden letters. What was bizzare was the knife protruding from _the wood door._

What a warm fucking welcome.

He squinted up at the number again, the unconventional numbers were still the same as the ones on the pass. He bit his lip, anxiousness writhing under skin and pushed the door open.

His eyes raked over the room in front of him, eyebrows creasing and confusion settling in his bones. The cream walls were bare, the sofa set and the small mahogany table looked untouched. The vermilion curtains that Remus could only guess acted as a partition for the room and the kitchen were drawn, hanging heavy. The only sign anyone had been here was the items littering the floor.

An open suitcase sat on the wooden floor, its contents everywhere but inside. Clothes were strewn across the floor, a food article here and there, a basket with towels and brushes overturned, an empty flask lying there innocently and the occasional pack of cigarette. Looks like his roommate was one wild lad.

Remus wrung his hands, covered from beige sweater sleeves. He stepped over the things and cautiously made his way towards the two doors at the end of the room.

He fished his room key out of his pocket and jammed it inside the lock, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

A bed was snuggled with the left wall, a simple bedside table with curved golden handles sitting beside it. A bookshelf adorned the front wall and a small chandler hanging from the ceiling. A bloody _chandler_. He couldn’t believe their were people out there dying in a world war and he was standing in a personal room with a bloody chandler.

Remus placed his suitcase on the bed and moved towards the bookshelf, the first mundane thing in this ridiculous place, a haven. He let his fingers trail down each part, a giddy smile on lips. Then his fingers rested on cool metal and he frowned, bending to bring it out.

It was an alcohol flask, judging by the weight, half empty. He turned it over, confused as to how it had gotten here, biting his lip in nervousness. The metal looked new as ever, on the side were engrave two letters:

_S.B._

Then there was sound of laughter floating from the main room, and a sharp crack, making Remus turn, coming face to face with the first student he’d seen all day.

The boy wore a jacket that was no doubt expensive, crooked glasses sitting on his nose. His eyes were a bright green, mussed hair sticking in every direction, a lopsided smile on his face. His face was flushed and he was swaying slightly, probably drunk.

The boy grinned, “Hey mate, that seems to be mine.”

What a warm fucking welcome.


	2. BLACK IS BAD TOO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus meets Sirius for the first time and Sirius acts like a major arse, which he is.

CHAPTER 2: BLACKS ARE BAD TOO

“His voice sounded flat, wrong, as if someone had struck a false note on the piano.”  
― **M.L. Rio,** **If We Were Villains**

.

.

.

The wind rushing in from the stained glass window at the other end of the room chased the faint sweet smell of the candles Remus had lit around the dusty room, the scent of Cynthia settling over the wood panels and the faintly sculpted ceilings. The smell was in contrast with the crude cold of unfamiliarity of the room and Remus’ head was fucking _killing_ him.

Right now he was placing the books he had brought with him on the old wood bookshelf, the heavy dark spines gaudy outwards but the tender pages of inside creating a faint musty scent. The atmosphere would have been rather pleasing if his dorm mate would stop fucking around and breaking everything down the hallway.

The jade-eyed boy from earlier, James, his name was, had left saying that roommates should have the ‘sweet suffering of first meeting’ all to themselves, and that introductions between two awkward people made him laugh, which was rude. In Remus’ opinion, a kind ‘fuck you’ was well suited for the situation.

He sighed and turned, stalking back to his bed and opening the last of his boxes the Academy peon had brought up. The box had all the jumpers he had packed back at home, and other fancy bits of clothing his mother had forced in. He did not have any liking for bloody fancy clothing, usually it just bugged him.

A crash echoed outside- presumably at the end of the hallway in Peter’s room; Remus frowned, hurrying around cardboard boxes and out.

His socks-clad feet padded down the ash wood floor, which had been polished so that his distorted reflection walked with him. Honestly, the show. He pushed Peter’s door open and-

“What.”

The question was rhetorical and had died at the full stop, but Peter, who was on the _floor_ covered in _flour_ gaped like a fish as if snatching at something to say.

“Why are you-”

“It was James and Pads-”

The golden clock on the stone wall clicked and they both continued to stare each other, Peter embarrassed and Remus disbelieving.

“It was James and Padfoot I swear,” Peter blurted. Remus could see he was still rather awkward, so naturally, he attempted at a bloody joke.

“No swearing in my holy fucking house,” He’d be lying if he thought the joke was good, but Peter in front of his cracked nonetheless, rolling with laughter.

Remus glanced at the clock and bit his lip, worrying the soft flesh, “Well, I’ll leave you here with the Halloween setup then, I s’pose.”

He shut the door behind him and inhaled, well, at least the roommate dynamic seemed to be going good. He walked down straight to his room, and entered with all the confidence of a new-born thieve. He was still not comfortable around the place and it didn’t help his window out looked a bloody _forest._

The Academy looked more of a haunted castle than anything. The place was deep in the forests of wales, a hollow building standing proudly, alive only with the thrum of students and the wilderness creeping up at its columns. The only way you could tell the vast grounds were taken care of was because the threatening cruel wilderness of the plants from the forest did not cross the drive that wound towards the rusty gate and the blood red rose garden that lay in the back, hidden, were still tamed and breathed of colour and scent.

The sky was mostly like faded ink, grey and blotchy, but Remus liked it, how the dark sky let just enough light in his room that it was seen by light shadows. The wooden table, the old books on the shelf, and the press of the candles he’d lit (the first thing he’d done) making it look like some old library inside a forgotten mansion.

The only fucking problem was Remus _hated_ so much pretentious shit. If a couple of countries had decided to let the blow slide down their egos, they could have prevented second _world war_ and Remus’ misery of not being home in his bed. Bloody crackheads.

He sighed and crawled into his bed, folding a pillow over his head and trying to ignore the hustle Peter was stirring in the other room.

-

Remus hadn’t exactly slept (thank you Peter) but to frame the sentence, when he woke up the time was already edging around five in the evening. Which meant fifteen minutes till James will come and would like to hang about with him. Honestly, why the fuck would a Potter chat up with him was beyond Remus. The Potters were one of the most prominent military families around, whilst the Lupins were over in the government lawyers’ area. Which mattered a lot during a world fucking war, thank you.

Remus shuffled out of bed, dragging the blanket with him because he was sleepy and because fuck you. He closed his fingers around the curved golden handle and tugged the old drawer open, squinting in the dull light and tugging out a soft brown sweater. Seriously, he gets the aesthetic but _better lighting._

He slid into the jumper easily, the sleeves drawn over his knuckles and the material loose. He glanced in the carved mirror over his bedside table, looking at his amber curls painfully and wishing them to lay disciplined for once.

There was a holler outside and he threw open the door, wading in the drawing room, where James was jumping like a child, grinning heartily and chanting Remus’ name.

“Gods, the megaphone in your throat,” and the words were hanging between before Remus could stop them. James whipped around, and Remus was expecting a frown, but James lit up instead, throwing a cry of ‘Comrade’ and collapsing on the sofa.

Remus stared. Okay, soap opera star. He’d gathered from the first meet that James was a very confident and happy person, which should be illegal.

“Now, do you want to go or not?” James prodded.

“Because I am the one presently weeping in joy on a sofa?” Remus asked, grinning right back.

With another cry of a ‘peasant’ they were down the corridor.

There were clusters of student in the corridor, some leaning against the wall on his right and others out in the field, looking small this side of the pillars. The one side open corridor’s floor was old marble, worn down enough that the dark sky was in contrast with it. When Remus tipped his head back, he could see the sculpted ceiling through the trap of cobwebs. This place had been a castle then, he was sure.

“Aye, Potter!” the yell could have been lost in the sea of chatter if the person hadn’t been standing right in front of them.

It was a girl, her loud trousers flared, shirt tucked carefully inside. Her hair was cropped, and her hand was clutching another girl’s, this one quite shy and small.

“Marlene,” James yelled, spectacles askew.

“Where’s the other one?” Marlene asked as they approached her, “And who’s this?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll meet him and this is Remus Lupin,” James replied.

Marlene turned, grinning, and stuck her hand out, “Hello, brother.”

Remus flushed, “Uh, hello, sister?”

Marlene threw her head back and laughed, “Established. See you around then Remus.”

They wound their way down the corridor, past hollering students with half spent cigarettes between their teeth and loud screams. By now Remus had a whiff James was known around here, and at first he couldn’t understand why and the it clicked, Euphemia Potter had been a board member in the receiving states’ Academy. This one in particular.

Remus was walking with the most elite fucking student here. The sheer horror.

They descended into the field and James turned around the corner, their shoes slapping against the gravel of the driveway. The deeper they went, the more the wild branches of bushes creeped outwards, some purple flower Remus couldn’t name blooming amongst the dark green leaves. The wind blew softly and the scent of the flowers, sweet and faint, trailed after it. This deep, there could be only one place they were visiting.

“Where are we going?” Remus asked.

James grinned like a Christmas child, “Why, in the forbidden forest, of course.”

Remus jolted to a stop and groaned, he regretted his life at the moment. “What?” he said.

James screwed his face, a hand over his heart, “Not inside, just over the edge, I’ll even vow to take the fall for you. But we’ve never been caught.”

Remus bit his lip, contemplating, a smoke with this new lad, or an evening setting up his room. The worse, he could be expelled. Or he could say he is a new student and was just making friends and didn’t know about company. Except he’d die from the guilt. You know what, fuck this.

“Okay, but I will come back to haunt you if I get murdered.”

“Exciting,” James smiled.

They picked their way through the disappearing driveway, the sky a dark grey now. At last, it ended in a clearing, and Remus stared.

There were creaking wooden benches with vines curling over their legs, surrounding a cracked fountain with the statue of a man, who was missing half his head, sitting in the middle. It had gone almost black and Remus was uncertain of its age. Vines with wildflowers drooping curled and held onto it, thin like nerves. The weirdest part was it was _running_. Water and all.

A small tree was lying on the ground, trunk petite and cold, Remus presumed it had fell sometime back. Then they were surrounded by the cold forest trees, they were dark and uncontrolled, roots breaching the clearing, white beeches nasty and wild, mangling amongst the other unknown trees like weaved together. Remus had to pick his way as he started forward, the ground was covered with the wild, snarling and blooming against each other.

“Beautiful?” James asked and Remus nodded, silent.

James stepped beside him, a lighter in one hand a burning cigarette in the mouth. He offered Remus the lighter, who fished out his own pack and lit one for him, bringing it to his mouth. He took a slow drag, humming along the burn in the back of his throat. He inhaled and exhaled, breathing along with the smoke that curled in the air, against the whip of wind.

There was a chuckle behind him and he turned, startled and confused. He saw James grin beside him.

There was a boy on the wooden bench, a cigarette held casually in one hand and two or three glowing stubs around him, breathing like amber petals. His symmetrical face was set in a fox’s grin, eyes watchful. His dark hair was like a splash of ink, spilling down around his pale porcelain like face. His legs were crossed, clad in bloody _maroon_ trousers, a leather jacket across his lap, a white shirt with ruffled sleeves and lace cuffs over all.

 _Fucking gorgeous,_ Remus thought immediately. Out of place, offensive and gorgeous. Somehow he still fit amongst the academia air of the school.

The Cheshire cat look did not leave his face even when James jumped over to him, shouting “Sirius! Bloody wanker!”

“Who is this?” was all he said.

“Remus Lupin,” Remus replied.

Sirius’ eyes locked on Remus’ face, grin intact. He understood it was supposed to be charming, hospitable even, but it looked so malicious to Remus, sharp enough to graze his raw nerves.

Remus was processing things slowly, but he saw James prop a fist on his hip, standing in front of Sirius, the most fake unimpressed look painted on his face.

“Where were you the whole day? I will cook you and eat you whole, you-”

Sirius turned to him, looking the least bit effected. “This is the second time you have suggested the idea cannibalism, should I worry myself, Prongs?”

The words were drawled, melting into each other and stretched out. And _holy mother_ , the amount of pretense and grace this boy put up was ridiculous.

“Did you meet Remus? He’s Wormtail’s mate,” was all James said.

“Roommate,” Remus corrected and then the attention was on him again.

The boy stood up, walking towards Remus, taking a careless inhale from his cigarette. When he stopped, the first thing Remus noticed was his eyes. They were grey, misty and like an old lake swirling with faint green, like the heart of a storm. The second thing was how _disturbing_ they were.

He couldn’t place his finger upon it, not in this breath of a minute, but there was something so painted and glass-like about them that all his previous thoughts were shattered to reality.

“I’m Sirius and I’m aware that I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

Remus inhaled, “Yes, I have just arrived and I’m new,” he prayed to every god known to him for this boy to not ask the reason behind.

The boy arched an eyebrow, some expression flitting across his face that Remus could not define, “What is your last name, Remus?”

 _No,_ “Lupin.”

Sirius smiled, but for a moment, Remus thought he saw the shadow of a conflict on his face, so minor he considered if he had imagined it.

“I suppose that is why you transferred, Cheri? Correct me if I’m wrong,” the intent wrapped in the words made Remus’ cheeks to burn and he ground his teeth.

“I have no idea what you are hinting at,” he said.

The boy in front of him took a step closer, with all the air of a predator and Remus held his breath, “Don’t you, Remus?”

Remus did. He was well aware Sirius was speaking of the gossip that had stirred through the English when his father had visited his mother’s hometown instead of showing up at the military trials at the political trials as the lawyer for the old traditional houses of London. After he had finally accepted the proposal, Remus had been transferred from his school back home to The Woods Academy.

“I don’t, _Sirius._ ”

Sirius just laughed, and Remus recognized the difference between his and James’ way of it, the way Sirius sounded flat, hollow and wrong. The grey-eyed boy drew out a flask the pocket of his trousers, carelessly opening and sipping.

For some odd reason, Remus felt distaste writhe inside him along with something else, curiosity, maybe? He decided this boy was not in his friend list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sirius should be nicer, but I can't help it. Also, leave kudos and comment and tell me what you think,  
> all the love beautiful reader,  
> Diti x.

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about the starting period of wwII don't look at me.  
> -Diti xx.


End file.
